


Not at all like strawberries

by equals_eleven_thirds



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Character Death, i intended it as probably-unfulfilled romantic tho, jon/tim can be read as platonic, set around when jon gets back after his coma in s4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:22:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22309357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/equals_eleven_thirds/pseuds/equals_eleven_thirds
Summary: Jon returns to work and can't find a pen.
Relationships: Basira Hussain & Jonathan Sims, Jonathan Sims/Tim Stoker
Comments: 16
Kudos: 121





	Not at all like strawberries

Jon has lost much worse things than a pen, really. His friends. His family. His humanity. So he’s not really sure why there are tears pricking at his eyes as he surveys his desk, all its drawers open, the contents strewn around his office, no pens anywhere in sight.

“Jon, do you know–oh.” Basira stops with the door half open, her eyes sweeping over his… mess. “What’s… Are you okay?

He swallows, swipes at his eyes, takes a breath, until he can speak again without his voice breaking. “It’s nothing, Basira. I’m fine. Sorry, did you need something?”

“..yeah.” She steps inside sideways, avoiding the papers and folders along the doorway. As if they were _important_ , and he almost laughs, but that might make him cry again, so he doesn’t. “Do you know where statement 0140911 got to? I was reading it earlier. Checking on–I was reading it.”

“Second cabinet from the door, bottom drawer. On top of the other files.” _That_ he knows automatically; any piece of knowledge about the Archives, about statements, about things to feed the eye, it gives him that. But not where his pen has gone. Of course not.

“Right, thanks.” Jon Knows she wants to leave, as if he couldn’t already tell from her awkward edging back towards the door, but she stops. Grimaces for a moment, then lets go of it with a sigh. “What’s wrong, Jon?”

“Nothing! Nothing. I–” And his voice finally breaks, there, and she gives him a pointed look like his grandmother did whenever she caught him lying, and it’s no use pretending. “…you’ll think it’s stupid.”

“I always think you’re stupid.”

“…right.” Now it’s his turn to grimace and sigh. “I lost a pen? I mean, I lost all my pens, everything got–rearranged, by the time I woke up. But this one is, it’s just, it looks like a strawberry, a little? It’s red and green with a pattern like… And it’s supposed to smell like one, only it doesn’t really. It never did, but it’s been years now so it–yeah. Um. I lost it.” 

Somewhere in the middle of his rambling speech he closed his eyes, embarrassed and _stupid_ , like he’d known he would be. It’s not surprising when he hears the door close.

It’s a little surprising when he hears Basira’s shoulder thump into the wood of the door as she says, “Okay. What’s so special about this pen? Besides it not smelling like strawberries.”

He can’t look at her. He can’t. But he can open his eyes enough to stare down at his own _(useless, empty)_ hands as he confesses, quiet and broken in his silent, lonely office, “Tim gave it to me. Back when we–well.”

_(“A present for you, workaholic,” a bright, familiar grin, hands holding out a pen and a freshly-washed bowl of strawberries. “Food for now–no, right now, I mean it, put that down–pen for when I_ let _you go back to work. It smells like strawberries, so maybe when you use it you’ll remember you’re actually hungry.”)_

“…huh.”

Jon still doesn’t look up as the door opens again and closes behind Basira. They both have more important things to do. More important things they’ve lost.

Two days later he sits down at his desk and there, among the other pens and paperclips and extra staples he’s managed to collect and put in his desk organizer, is something bright green and red and not smelling at all like strawberries.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! You can also find me over on tumblr, where recently I've been yelling a lot about TMA: https://equalseleventhirds.tumblr.com/


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